New Sunrise

New Sunrise

Restless, this sleep that comes,
then doesn’t, these trying times when
memories flow like a river, then briefly,
and I feel his touch, then don’t.

That sun set long ago. Everything changed
with his extinguished light, no eyes
to flash his broad smile as darkness
seemed to close in around me.

It’s now my turn to go, knowing that,
as our hands touch once again, at last,
we will greet our first new sunrise.

The prompt for Meet the Bar by changing your perspective, from Björn at dVerse, offers this prompt: “…go out of your comfort zone and change the perspective. You can either start from a poem you’ve written before and change its perspective, or simply write from a perspective you are not used to.”

On October 29th, I wrote Last Light in response to “Tears in rain – using our senses,” from Sarah at dVerse. For this prompt, I’ve rewritten that poem and made it from the perspective of the subject of the first poem.  My father died 15 years before my mother, and she was quiet, almost absent, in the last few years of her life. I tried to imagine that, with this. Please read the original, here.

unexpected gift ~ tanka

Carpe Diem #1775 Morning Glory! is part of a new feature,
“Carpe Diem’s Transformation,” which has the goal of using the scenes and images
of a given haiku to create a transformed haiku into a tanka.

Another feature of Carpe Diem is to create a Tan Renga, a short exercise that adds two lines to a given haiku to create a tanka. Making a distinction, I have interpreted this new prompt
to be a challenge to first transform a given haiku by re-creating it
before adding two lines to make it a tanka.

The haiku provided (in blue) is by Chiyo-Ni, and my tanka follows.

morning glory!
the well bucket-entangled,
I ask for water
            Chiyo-Ni

unexpected gift
morning glory filled with water
refreshing my thirst
accepted as good omen
a fresh start to my travels

Image source: morguefile.com / rollingroscoe

Lost Keepsakes ~ quadrille

Lost Keepsakes

Do you still keep those memories
we once held dear, now that we have
nothing else to share? The one thing
we could not divide between us
dwindled away for me, once we went
our separate ways, leaving nothing
but faint memories of memories.

This is my response to Quadrille #91 – Keep — the prompt from Kim at dVerse, which is to use the word keep in a 44-word poem that does not require meter or rhyme.